


I'll Find You (i promise)

by twothousandverses



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Established Relationship, Injury, Keith and Lance looove each other, Kidnapping, M/M, Protectiveness, Swearing, Violence, a bit of angst, this takes place a few years after the first season
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-19
Updated: 2017-01-19
Packaged: 2018-09-18 12:34:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9385418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twothousandverses/pseuds/twothousandverses
Summary: “This dude basically deals in human trafficking, right? So, one of us would act like they'd been abandoned, and hopefully be approached… because that’s how it always works, right? Some guy offers you money and a sketchy job, then BAM you wake up handcuffed in a basement.”Thanks to an undercover mission gone awry, Lance goes missing. The team must put aside their worries and anger, and work together if they want any chance of finding him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hey who else is excited for Season 2 this Friday!? I finished this fic a few days ago and wanted to get it online before it got declared Uncanon™, so it is largely unedited! I will look over it when I get the chance, but with finals on the way I’m not sure when that’ll be. 
> 
> AGH Season 2 is going to wreck my heart (and my study plans rip) but!!! I am so excited regardless.
> 
> (ALSO is Lance going to be okay???? stares @ voltron trailers)
> 
> UPDATE: Finally revised this and made some minor grammar corrections!!

A paladin’s job consisted in many things, including (but not limited to): infiltrating enemy bases, going undercover to gain info, training, learning alien languages, learning alien customs (as to not accidentally ‘offend’ anyone— _pfft),_ and practicing first-aid.

Lance _also_ had to deal with his cranky boyfriend, but that privilege was exclusive to him.

“Babe, can you come over here for a sec?” he asked. “I could use some help.”

Keith made a vague, disinterested sound, but looked up. He had been toying with his knife, pulling it out of its sheath halfway, studying it, and then sliding it back in. He put it away. “What are you even doing? You said you were going to pack, but you don’t need anything.”

Lance tsked in mock-disappointment. _“Keith_ , have I taught you nothing? Do you _still_ not care about the art of going undercover?”

With a neutral expression, Keith deadpanned, “No.”

“Well, no matter what you believe, this is _not_ a waste of time!” Lance stormed across the room, enunciating his point with outlandish hand gestures. “In fact, you couldn’t be more wrong! The fate of our entire mission depends on my incredible acting skills. _I_ know that I won’t let the team down, and _you_ know I won’t—but there are other ways fate could toy us! What if an earthquake suddenly rattles the planet to the core, separating us from the target? Or— _ooh!_ What if some Zarkon-related-lackey is conducting business on the planet, spots us, and calls a million fleets for backup? _Hmm?”_

“Lance, we’ve been staking out this city for a week,” Keith reminded him pointedly. “If there were any Galra nearby, we’d know.” When Lance’s hand got dangerously close to hitting his face, he swatted it out of the air.

“My point stands. Crazy shit happens all the time! Are you willing to sacrifice my wellbeing just because you couldn’t tolerate my precautions?”

Keith rolled his eyes, but he was used to Lance’s crazy antics by now. “I still don’t see what that has to do with _packing._ You’re going to be _kidnapped!_ Everything will be taken away from you!”

“Which is _exactly_ why I have to take stuff!”

Keith groaned.

“Because if I show up with my pockets empty, they’ll think that’s suspicious—but if I have, like, a pack of alien cigarettes in my boot— _bam!_ No one can deny the credibility of _alien cigarettes!_ The bad guys will believe I am who I say I am, and my cover won’t be blown! So I _gotta_ have the alien cigarettes with me, Keith. My entire acting career depends on it!”

Keith held up a hand. “Wait, wait, wait,” he said, backtracking a little. _“That’s_ why you’ve been tearing your room apart for the past twenty minutes? To find _alien cigarettes?”_

Lance deflated a little. “Dude, yeah. I thought I briefed you on our way over here.”

Keith sighed. “Look, I’m not going to fight you. I just think you need to stop overthinking things. This whole kidnapping thing isn’t even happening until tomorrow. Can you _please_ calm down?”

Something in his tone must’ve told Lance to snap out of it. “…Okay, yeah. Your honesty, as always, is duly appreciated.” He exhaled deeply, and fell backwards onto the bed. Suddenly, he sounded spent. “Man, I’m sorry. I must’ve been freaking you out or something.”

Keith, who had been more annoyed than anything else, bit back any further comments. “No, it’s cool. No worries.”

Lance held his arms out invitingly, without getting up. “Cuddles?”

Without a word, Keith crossed the space between them and lay down, nestling close into his boyfriend’s side. Lance shifted to drape an arm over him, and planted a loving kiss on his forehead. “I love you.”

“I love you too, babe.”

A sleepy, comfortable silence overcame them.

After a minute, Keith said, “…I have alien cigarettes in my room, if you want them.”

“Fuck _yes.”_

 

The story went like this:

Not so long ago, Voltron had freed some prisoners from Galra captivity, who told them about a stout, ugly-looking alien named Khrelal, who was the leader of a giant labour trafficking syndicate. He and his thugs basically went around kidnapping the hapless and helpless, and then sold them on the black market. Although not Galra himself, his largest benefactor and customer was none other than Zarkon—which meant he _had_ to be taken down.

After hacking into Galra servers, the team narrowed down his main headquarters to a small, shady-looking planet called Netzal. In order to find him, Allura came up with the idea of a good old-fashioned stake-out. The planet was small, and most of the inhabitants were farmers living hundreds of kilometers away from each other. There was only one city—if you could even call it that—with a dozen thousand citizens.

“A dozen thousand!?” Lance had exclaimed. “Dude! That’s _still_ a dozen thousand people who _could_ be Khrelal!”

“It could be worse,” said Hunk. “There could be _more_ people. _That’d_ be awful.”

“Actually,” Pidge interrupted, “it wouldn’t.” She hadn’t turned to face them—instead, her eyes were melting a hole through her computer screen. “Why do you think it’s so easy to hunt someone down in a large city?”

Before they could grace her with a half-assed answer, she explained, “It’s because people are a liability. They’re eyewitnesses, neighbours, the folks you bump into on the street—they’re everywhere. And people make mistakes. They leave clues behind.” She shifted in her seat, and returned to disgruntledly glaring at her computer. “And that’s why this stakeout is going to _suck.”_

Lance and Hunk shared scared looks.

 

After they arrived, Allura and Coran parked the castle out of sight in the farmlands, kicked the paladins towards the city, and ordered them to do some sleuthing.

There was only one thing Lance discovered immediately: the entire planet fit the parameters of ‘sketchy’. Every building was one that would crumble if you poked it hard enough; anyone could be provoked into violence if you looked at them too long; the streets were hardly paved; the food tasted like raw bacteria; and once Lance had to tug his pants away from a kleptomaniacal two-year-old.

 _All that!—_ but nothing about Khrelal’s syndicate.

Over time, things got worse. Their persistent presence was detected quickly, and soon faces turned as they walked down the street. People glared at them until they passed by, and then spat at their turned backs. Shiro suggested they start introducing themselves to people—as to create a ‘connection’ with the decrepit town—but if anything, the locals wound up trusting them less.

The final straw had been a lipstick-smeared, snarling old lady. Outside one day, and without any provocation, she had stormed up to Hunk, shoved him against a wall, and spat interrogations at his face until Shiro was able to pry her away.

Therefore, a week after their arrival, the team met up to discuss a new plan.

Pidge spun in her chair idly. “The problem,” she said, “is that we’re foreigners, and thanks to the Galra, no one trusts foreigners.”

Keith crossed his arms, looking surly (as always). “It might also be Khrelal and his lackeys. Maybe they’re terrorizing the locals? Or maybe he’s already bought them over to his side.”

Allura contemplatively scratched her face. “That would be bad news for us. Who knows if we’d ever find a lead?” A silence fell over the group.

Shiro said finally, “They definitely know we’re up to no good. In fact, I think I caught one of them spying on Hunk and me yesterday. Right, Hunk?”

Hunk, who was still mildly traumatized from the previous morning’s assault, was slow to respond. “Huh? Oh, yeah! That’s right. We were definitely being spied on.”

Lance stretched, subtly casting a look at Keith. “I don’t think they know we’re enemies of the Galra, per se,” he said, “but if we stay any longer, they’ll figure it out.”

Allura’s face scrunched up, deep in thought. “So, what do you suggest? Should we leave?”

Pidge jumped to her feet. She objected loudly, “No way! We can’t let Khrelal get away. Not with all the evil shit he’s been doing!”

“Could we attack guns blazing?” Keith suggested. “Assault the town; see if anything provokes Khrelal into appearing. I’m sure we could pull it off before he calls for Galra reinforcements.”

Coran, from behind a console we was repairing, poked his head out. “That’s not the way we do things, Keith,” he lectured. “Harming others is cruel, and shameful of the noble paladins.” He cast Keith a stern look, one that spoke volumes of disapproval, before disappearing behind the console again.

“Coran’s right,” said Shiro. “We’re the good guys. We can’t go terrorize innocent citizens….”

“So what _do_ we do?” asked Lance. “If we don’t want to blow our cover, we _have_ to leave.”

Another meditative silence. Coran’s tools messily clattered as he patched up the console.

Hunk said, “So what if we _did_ leave?”

Confused, the group looked up at him.

“I mean, I know it sounds crazy—and maybe it _is_ crazy—but we should. I mean, we wouldn’t actually leave—but we’d _pretend_ to.”

“Okay, I like the sound of this.” Pidge nodded encouragingly. “What do you have in mind?”

“This dude basically deals in human trafficking, right? So we’d all leave, except for one of us, who’d act like they were abandoned. I mean, the locals still think we’re merchants, right? We could, I dunno, stage an argument, so we’d have a reason to leave behind a crew member. And then the next day, that one person would walk into town in a rage, acting like they’d been deserted.”

Lance nodded, a huge grin plastered on his face. “Oh, I know where you’re going with this! Then, alone and without anywhere to go, the unlucky paladin would be approached by our saviour Khrelal—that’s how it always works, right? Some guy offers you money and a sketchy job, then _BAM_ you wake up handcuffed in a basement!”

Allura clapped her hands. “The paladin would be brought to the heart of Khrelal’s secret base! Oh, brilliant, Hunk! That is a wonderful plan!”

Everyone seemed to agree, except for Keith. “I don’t know,” he said, looking indecisive. “It seems like a big gamble, especially since it heavily relies on what Khrelal decides to do. We’d be basically _abandoning_ a paladin.”

“It’s the only plan we’ve got,” said Shiro. “Plus, we’re not _abandoning_ anybody. We’ll put a wire or a tracking device on whoever we decide to send in. Once we know the location of Khrelal’s hideout, the rest of us can barge in—as you put it earlier—guns blazing.”

Although not totally convinced, Keith seemed sufficiently placated. His boyfriend, sensing his discomfort, discreetly sidled closer and held his hand.

“Right! All that remains to do is pick who shall go undercover,” said Allura. She smiled pleasantly.

“Ooh, I like the sound of ‘undercover’,” Lance whispered to Keith. “It sounds like we’re secret agents, on a super top-secret mission.”

Keith smirked. “Nerd.”

Lance made an affronted gasp. He would have whispered back, but Allura glared at him to shut up. “I propose Hunk,” she finished. “He was the one who came up with the plan, after all.”

Hunk spluttered. “What? _Me?_ No, that is a _terrible_ idea. I can’t act to save my life! Don’t you remember that last time, on the planet with those tiny humans? Lance told them that I was a ‘Super High Priest/President’!?”

At the memory, Lance grinned mischievously. “I didn’t have a choice! We needed them to trust us, and they had a weird fetish for priests.”

“That’s beside the point!” Hunk continued frantically, “They wanted to know what a High Priest/President _did._ So I made something up—bullshit, all of it—and they _predictably_ didn’t believe any of it! If Allura hadn’t been there to calm them down, they would have used tiny pitchforks to drive us out of the star-system!”

Pidge laughed. “Oh my gosh, I remember that! Didn’t you tell them that your only job requirement was masterfully eating twenty-three marshmallows at once?”

Behind the console, Coran snorted. Hunk sent his friend an exasperated glare. “Yeah, I did! Thanks, Pidge, for _reminding everybody.”_

She and Lance shared evil grins.

“Okay, that’s enough.” Despite his words, Shiro’s lips hid the traces of an amused smile. “Why don’t you serve as our undercover agent, Pidge?”

“Me?” Her smile turned remorseful. “Aw, man, I wish—but you guys need me here to monitor the bug and tracking device, in case they fail.”

Shiro nodded, seeming to agree. However, he sounded resigned when he said, “Then I guess _I’ll_ go.”

Allura shook her head firmly. “Absolutely not. We need you here to lead the others! If something bad was to happen—which I’m sure it won’t!” she added hastily. “But just in case—we need the black lion to command the others.” Her excuse sounded too hasty, and the others instantly recognized it for what it really was—Shiro suffered from PTSD after his time as a Galra prisoner, and it would be hurtful to place him in a new captive situation. Silently, the other paladins supported her.

“That being said….” Allura turned to Lance and Keith, and smiled brightly. “You! I think you’re _perfect_ for the job, Lance!”

Lance produced an undignified squawk. With his free hand, he pointed at himself. _“Me?_ Well, I’m flattered you’d think so, but—”

“The princess is right,” Pidge interrupted. “Out of all of us, you’re the most adept liar, so Khrelal wouldn’t suspect a thing. Besides”—and here she offered an apologetic smile—“you have the nasty habit of annoying the wrong people and becoming a target. If anyone ends up provoking Khrelal into spontaneous abduction, it’d be you.”

“Yikes,” said Hunk. “I’m sorry, dude, but Pidge is right.” He straightened his back. “Besides, you’re basically our resident Damsel in Distress™. That has to weigh in for _something.”_

Lance’s features twisted wryly. “Thanks. I’m really feeling the love here.”

“It’s simply the most reasonable choice,” said Coran, shouting to be heard.

Lance inhaled deeply, though he looked sort of pleased. “Well, I guess it sounds fun—”

Keith demanded, “What happens if he gets hurt?”

The humour dissipated. Even Coran paused, and turned to stare at him.

Lance’s mouth floundered. “Hey, babe, I—”

 _“No,_ I’m serious.” His grip on Lance’s hand tightened. “This plan was rickety from the start. It’s awful using a paladin as bait, but it is much worse using one as a _sacrifice—”_

“Keith!” exclaimed Shiro. _“No one_ is using anyone as a _sacrifice.”_

“Well, it sounds like it! Leaving him alone, to be purposefully _kidnapped?_ Come on!”

Allura stepped forward, her hands forming a placating gesture. “Lance will be safe,” she assured, although she casted an uncertain glance at Shiro. “This is no different from the other hundred dangerous things we’ve done before.”

“Yeah, that’s right!” Lance interjected quickly. “Danger is just another part of the paladin job description!” Swiftly, he planted a quiet peck on Keith’s cheek.

“But—”

“Don’t worry! I’ll be totally safe,” said Lance. “I promise.”

 

Keith remained unhappy, so Lance did his best to ease his worries. Although he went a little overboard with the whole ‘alien cigarettes’ thing, it worked out in the end. Later, they talked through every step of the plan in detail, so Keith would know exactly what was going to happen. At sundown, all five paladins would stage a fight at the town square, where they’d hopefully be seen by many witnesses. Then, in the morning, Lance would wander into town in search of Khrelal, hiding a tracking device behind his ear. (The wire idea hadn’t panned out, mainly because they remembered their last bug had been destroyed by the gnawing teeth of an Elkeian from the Moon of Sazzirus.)

Lance tried to convince Shiro to let him get shit-faced (“if I’m drunk out of my mind, it’ll sell my character’s misery better!”), but Shiro claimed it was important Lance kept a clear head for that stage of the mission—besides, he was still under the age of twenty-one.

“C’mon!” protested Lance loudly. “Twenty-one, _on what planet?!_ We haven’t been to Earth in _years!_ In some places, I’m probably _five hundred_ years old!”

Shiro snorted. “Nice try.”

The next part of the plan relied heavily on luck—that Khrelal or his goons would find Lance and approach him. Even if Lance wasn’t brought to Khrelal’s main headquarters but a smaller establishment, the rest of the paladins would know where to start hunting.

Unless he wasn’t kidnapped at all, there was no way they could lose.

Lance rolled his shoulders, prepping himself for what he had dubbed The Big Fight. At the moment, the five paladins were walking towards town for their staged argument.

“Just remember what you have to say,” Shiro reminded everybody.

“You didn’t give us any lines,” Keith pointed out.

“I meant, like, in general. Say mean things to each other—but keep it reasonable. Hunk, I’m looking at you.”

“Who? _Me?”_ Hunk was visibly panicked. He kept wringing his hands, and his expression was one of pure agony. “No, no. I’m cool. I’m the epitome of coolness. The… King of Cool, if you will.”

Pidge said, “If you don’t feel comfortable throwing around insults, you don’t have to. Just stand around and look angry.”

“Oh. Really? That’s a relief!” Hunk grinned, and threw his arms around a surprised Pidge and Shiro. “Man, I love you guys.”

Keith spotted a local heading towards them on the path. “You don’t any more,” he warned.

As if electrocuted, Lance leapt backwards three feet away from his boyfriend. He shrieked, visibly affronted, “How _dare you_ say that to my face! _I am APPALLED and DISGUSTED, and find your current attitude REVOLTING!”_

The villager startled at the noise.

The rest of the team stared too—mostly at Keith, expectant and slightly afraid of his response.

There was a long pause. “Um, yeah? Well, I don’t, uh… appreciate the tone you’re using, either.” Keith’s voice was a complete monotone.

His comeback had ended by the time the villager passed, so Lance didn’t refrain from hissing, “Baby, that was _awful._ You sounded like Hunk when he’s acting, only a million times worse.”

“Hey!”

Keith spluttered. “You guys put me on the spot! What was I supposed to do?”

Lance grinned. “You never talk like that when we’re _actually_ arguing. Just don’t try so hard to sound like a robot!” He sighed dramatically, and tossed his hair. “This is exactly why _I’m_ the star actor of the group.”

“Whatever, princess, we’ve got more company,” Pidge said, eyeing the path. “Lance, you did great, but how about saving the _real_ ugly material for the larger public?”

 

Oh, and it was _ugly_.

Keith felt awful and humiliated, as did the rest of the paladins. They returned to the castle later during the night weary from the Lance’s awful abuses, leaving behind a city that was half traumatized. It was an unforgettable event, and hopefully wouldn’t slip the mind of Khrelal come morning.

To be honest, it was convincing mainly because everyone except for Lance had walked away sulking and depressed—not because his targets hit home, but because the first- and second-hand embarrassment was too great. Notable examples of his insults included calling Pidge a “midget whose brain was smaller than an oily Terabithian’s baby toe”, and calling Hunk a “dirty Mamma’s boy whose cooking tastes worse than a Vulcan’s ass”. He even got to Shiro by saying that “his leadership skills were worse than Zarkon’s and Jabba the Hutt’s golfing prowess combined”.

Keith sighed, and closed his bedroom’s door behind them. “I’m severely disappointed in you.”

“Not impressed by all my sick references, huh?” Lance was still acting giddy, practically floating whenever he walked. He draped his arms around Keith’s shoulders and leaned in close, grinning. “Don’t worry,” he whispered, “I’m sure none of those species _actually_ exist… and if they do, I’ve probably managed to greatly anger them. But I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“Hmm,” Keith replied, unconvinced. “Though, I’m amazed you know the word ‘Terabithia’ even exists.”

Lance closed his eyes and hummed. “Give me some credit; it’s my little sister’s favourite book.” He smiled. “I’m not as uncultured as you think.”

They kissed, long and sweetly. Lance’s hand tangled itself in Keith’s hair, while the latter hugged him closely by the waist. They could have stood there for hours.

But Keith finally pulled away, much to Lance’s protest. “C’mon! We should keep making out. We don’t know when we’ll see each other next!”

Keith gave him a look. “Don’t say that as if you’re leaving forever. Shiro said you’d be gone two days, _at most.”_

Lance whined, “But I’ll miss you. Two days without seeing my baby? It’ll be like torture….” He moved to kiss him again, puckering his lips exaggeratedly, but Keith skilfully dodged the attack.

“Speaking of your undercover mission….” He had just been reminded of something. He rummaged through his drawers of junk for a while, until he found what he was looking for—the alien cigarettes he’d nicked off a planet they’d stopped at a few weeks ago. Although he’d likely never use them, he’d kept them because _duh, alien souvenirs._

“Here.” He tossed them to Lance. “For your role tomorrow.”

He caught them, and studied the box. Quickly, he broke into a smile. “Aw, thanks, baby! I knew you were secretly supportive of my acting career.” He threw his arms around Keith, and kissed him on the cheek. “So, what’s the final verdict on making out? You didn’t exactly say no~”

Keith hummed. “No, I didn’t.”

 

The first thing Lance registered was pain. It was dark and throbbing, at the back of his skull, and all around his knees and wrists. It wasn’t the pain he recognized from his daily sufferings—the sharp stings, the bloody cuts and bruises, and the dislocated joints that hardly made him blink. This was torturous in its dizzying quality, and it made his head spin and his stomach churn, even when he was blind to everything else.

Next came the sensation of a cold, rough surface against his face. He was lying on the ground of a dark room, but _where? What is going on? Where is Shiro, and Keith—?_

 _Keith._ Now, he remembered everything. Lance, walking into town dressed in misery and despair—he remembered how Khrelal had approached him inside a bar, presenting him a job offer he couldn’t resist.

 _I did it,_ Lance had thought as he followed the alien outside. _The mission is working. Everything is going according to plan—_

Then, once outside, Lance had been too slow to notice the two burly aliens standing by the door, until they had grabbed him and stabbed him in the throat with some syringe. He retched. Lance had struggled to pry their heavy hands off of him, but his limbs had become drained of their strength. Vile bitterness flooded his mouth, and stained the world in a putrid yellow taste.

Now, Lance lay on his side, trying to steady his breaths. _This is okay,_ he told himself. _This is all going according to plan. You got kidnapped—now, just wait for your friends to save you._

It was hard to move. The air felt heavy enough to pin him to the ground. Groggily, he blinked numerous times, and took in his surroundings.

He was in a cell no larger than 11 by 11 feet. There was a heavy-looking door opposite to him, though there existed no windows to speak off—instead, all the light came from a dimly-glowing crystal on the ceiling. The entire room smelled like spoiled food.

Lance groaned, and let gravity push him back to the ground. After a few minutes of blinking and swallowing revulsion, he managed to sit up.

His hands were tied behind his back. His senses were still fuzzy from the drug, but he recognized a cold, metallic texture. Handcuffs, maybe?

And speaking of the drug… that was some _damn_ potent stuff. How long had he been out? An hour? One day? To be honest, it felt like he’d slept through an entire month.

But it couldn’t have been long, or else Keith and the others would have already arrived to rescue him. He couldn’t check, what with his arms tied behind his back, but the tracking device should still be planted behind his ear. It was small, only about the size of a nail, and painted in the colour of his skin. If anybody saw it, they’d think it was just a weird-looking scar.

Now, he simply had to wait. With effort, Lance scooted backwards so that his back rested against the far wall. Lazily, he watched the ceiling crystal ebb light. He could alone for a _long_ time.

Then the door slammed open, revealing two mean-looking aliens standing in front of him.

He jumped from surprise, and also shrieked a little (though he’d deny it if questioned). These dudes looked _strong_ , and were dressed like something straight out of a Dungeons and Dragons catalogue. Lance would’ve been content to sit there and admire the ridiculousness of their garments, had they not pointed two blasters at him and barked, “ _STAND UP!”_

Lance jolted awake. “Whoa, okay! I’m standing! Don’t shoot!”

With an unsurprising amount of difficulty, he staggered to his feet.

“Step forward.” Although his entire body roiled in protest, he did so.

Satisfied, the two thugs stepped aside. For an instant Lance thought this could be his chance to escape—they had quite literally left the door open for him—when the evil gremlin himself appeared.

“Welcome,” he greeted with a sneer. “I hope you’ve found your accommodations welcoming.”

Momentarily, Lance was taken aback with confusion. (Despite what the other paladins joked, his thought-process wasn’t _that_ slow.) What purpose did Khrelal have in personally showing up at his cell? Wasn’t Lance simply another slave out of hundreds?

But after the moment passed, his heartbeat fluttered back to normal. Obviously, the alien was interested in yesterday’s spectacle. _That’s_ why he had come.

“Yeah?” hollered Lance, diving back into character. “Well, your hospitality stinks. Big time!” He considered spitting on the alien’s face, but then remembered the two beefy guys standing nearby. “What’s the meaning of this? You said that you’d help me after my crew abandoned me!”

Khrelal smiled nastily. “Unfortunately, that was a lie. I _used_ you, just like your teammates did.”

Lance wasn’t entirely sure how to respond to that. “Yeah, well, _fuck you!_ Don’t you think your timing was a little too perfect? I wake up from my nice and cozy nap, and here you are _immediately_. Were you waiting for me? I feel so fucking honoured.”

 _“Paladin_ , the honour is truly mine.”

 

The temperature of Lance’s bloodstream dropped twenty degrees. He stood, adrenaline and drugs coursing through his veins, staring in disbelief at the tiny, smirking gremlin.

 _He can’t know. He can’t possibly know._ “I’m sorry,” he said, “but did you say _paladin?_ Aren’t those the guys who get off on shooting Galra? Why would you think I’m one of _them?”_

“Because,” Khrelal responded, “I’m not an idiot. You fooled no one with your fake identities, not since you first stepped foot on this planet.” He laughed. “By the way, that performance of yours at the town square was laughably inane. I’m glad you know it was for naught.”

Lance’s head whirred with thoughts. He got the sinking feeling that this entire mission was a mistake.

“How did you know?” he demanded, all pretence abandoned.

Khrelal laughed. “You really thought I wouldn’t notice the landing of your massive battleship? Boy, not a single thing can happen on this planet that I don’t know about!” He strode forwards, his conceitedness moulding into something vile and horrifying. “And I knew _immediately_ who you and the others were, _paladin_. I’m a loyal Galra ally—of course I know what to expect from the so-called ‘defenders of the universe’! But frankly, I overestimated your party tricks. You didn’t even notice all the spies I sent to watch you! Perhaps you are not as great as they say you are.”

Lance’s shoulders tensed. “Listen, Khrelal,” he growled, “you’re making a mistake _._ My friends are on their way to this location, and they’ll shut your entire syndicate down. They’ll _kill you._ ”

“And how do they hope to find me,” Khrelal said, “if they don’t know where _you_ are?”

Lance felt the back of his ear itch.

The alien smiled unpleasantly, taking relish in Lance’s pained expression “You’re a fool to think I wouldn’t notice that tracking device. I had it destroyed immediately—though now I regret that decision. If I had left it intact, I could have devised a trap for your teammates. Unless they _actually_ didn’t care for you, I’m sure they’d waste no time coming to fetch it.”

He paused, as if expecting Lance to interject. “Then, I would have not one, but _five_ paladins for Zarkon’s spending pleasure. I would become such a rich man… do you know how much each of you is worth?”

Lance couldn’t stand any more of his taunts—with an incoherent cry, he lunged. His movements were still sluggish from the drug, but standing up had helped clear his head. He aimed a kick that’d bash Khrelal’s face in—and then he could make a run for it—

_BLAM!_

Lance collapsed to the ground without landing a single strike. A searing hot pain ripped through his right thigh—one of the thugs at the doorway had fired at him with their gun.

His leg felt like it had been caught by a lightning blast. Dangerously sober, Lance was able to appreciate how _mellow_ his previous pain had been. He was hardly aware of Khrelal leaving with a final cutting remark, leaving him alone with his tiny cell and tiny light. He wished badly to move, but the mere idea sent streaks of pain through his muscles.

After an indeterminate amount of time, he passed out. His last thoughts were of Keith, and the other paladins, coming to his rescue.

 

The day of Lance’s kidnapping had begun well enough; Keith had woken up with Lance curled around him protectively, snoring into the back of his T-shirt.

“Good morning,” Keith mumbled.

“Mmm… g’mrnghh.” Lance drowsily tucked his face into the back of Keith’s neck.

He would have gladly stayed cuddling for the rest of the morning, but Keith was regrettably aware of the time. It was 9:07, and Shiro wanted Lance ready for action by 10:00.

Reluctantly, he turned around. “C’mon, Lance, we gotta get up now.”

 _“Mmghhm…_ in a minute…”

There was no use dragging him out of bed before he was ready (that was a lesson Keith learned the hard way). Instead of staying to coerce him awake, Keith placed a kiss between Lance’s eyes and got to his feet. By the time he emerged from the shower some fifteen minutes later, Lance was sitting up, blearily blinking and staring into space. “Hey, you’re finally up.”

“And wishing I wasn’t,” said Lance, sounding slightly miserable. Keith sat down beside him, and gave him a kiss in the corner of his mouth. “Do you want me to wait for you?” he asked.

“Nah, it’s okay,” replied Lance. “Go to the mess hall and have some breakfast, I’ll meet you there later.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Go eat something.”

“…Okay. I love you.”

“I love you too, baby.”

Keith found Pidge already seated in the mess hall, digging into a bowl of extra-terrestrial cereal. Although the cereal itself looked relatively normal, it was suspended in a gooey, vibrant orange liquid.

“I wonder if that tastes as awful as it looks,” Keith mused.

“Get lost,” Pidge responded in greeting. She was tinkering with some small device, and hardly looked up as Keith approached. “If you really want to know: the orange stuff tastes _exactly_ like milk, it’s somehow just a million times thicker.”

“Yikes.” Keith grabbed an exotic-looking fruit from a bowl on the counter, and then sat beside her. “What’re you doing?”

“Making sure the tracking device that’ll save your boyfriend’s life cannot possibly malfunction. It’d sure suck if it shorted out and we lost him forever.”

Keith frowned. “Yeah, that’d be pretty inconvenient.”

Pidge snorted. “I upgraded the tracking device since we last used it—remember how it only worked within a certain range? Like, a couple hundred kilometers or so? Now, thanks to some Galra tech that I reverse-engineered, we can track Lance anywhere on a single planet, even if he’s underwater or in orbit. So unless that Khrelal-freak literally shoots him in a drill towards the core of the planet, we’ll have his coordinates.”

“Whoa.” He didn’t know much about technology, but was still impressed. “How long did it take you to finish this?”

She shrugged nonchalantly. “Eh, it wasn’t too bad. I had worked on it earlier, so it was already half done when I came back to it.”

“Still really cool. You did a great job.”

“Thanks, man.” Pidge smiled. She leaned towards him, and showed him the device. “Check this out: I also made the exterior more invulnerable, so it’ll take more effort to damage. You’d have to smash it underfoot to break it.” She grinned, and tapped the apparatus with her nail.

“Ooh, neat.” Keith smiled, and took the first bite out of his alien fruit. Immediately, he spat it back out. “Oh god, that tastes _disgusting.”_

Pidge realized what he was talking about, and grinned. “Most of them are, unfortunately. But I _do_ recommend the one that looks like a bow-tie. It tastes sort of like bubble-gum?”

“You better not be messing with me.” Keith shot her a warning look as he walked over to the bowl, and picked up the fruit she instructed. It was yellow, with a soft shell that did slightly resemble a knotted bow-tie. “Hey, not bad,” he said after taking his first bite. He raised it slightly in toast. “Thanks, Pidge.”

“You’re welcome, my dude. Just a warning, though, the aftertaste is like shit.”

 

Lance lost track of the hours.

He knew he couldn’t have been in that cell for more than a day. However, without any exposure to the outside world, there was no way to tell how much time was passing.

His leg wasn’t doing so great. He pained to think about it, and it pained him even more to look at it. The bullet he’d been shot with wasn’t traditional metal, the one that pierces muscles, but rather an energy ray. In a way, that was even worse. There was no blood to speak of, but his flesh was puffy and a deathly black. His entire right leg felt unresponsive, so it was nearly impossible to move. Also, his pants leg was totally ruined.

Lance found himself worrying about his fate. He’d never been imprisoned in a Galra cell before—he’d seen the inside of thousands, during Voltron’s prison-break missions, but the door had never been closed and locked behind him. Would it be different from any other cell he’s been in? Probably not.

On another note: how would Team Voltron know where to look for him? If Khrelal knew about the tracking device, then surely he had destroyed it. They were probably freaking out, with no idea of where to find him.

Maybe if he was in the hands of Galra, his friends would have an easier time locating him. The thought gave him comfort, but not much, so he forced it from his mind. But there was nothing else to think about, except his pain and his imminent future.

To distract himself, he counted the crystal’s gentle pulses of light. He made it to two hundred sixty-five before his mind wandered again. What were Keith and the others doing that very moment?

 

“Okay, don’t freak out,” said Pidge, “but we just lost Lance.”

She and Hunk had called the others down to the bridge for an emergency meeting. The two of them had been in charge of monitoring Lance’s movements, and letting them know if anything remarkable occurred. The first five hours had passed without any news—but then, suddenly, _this_.

Allura looked pale. “What are you talking about?”

“What do you think we’re talking about!? Our signal on Lance is gone!” Hunk looked frantic and completely wretched as he paced in front of the others. “We can’t track his movements anymore! He’s totally disappeared”

 _Lance? Missing?_ For a minute, Keith’s entire universe halted. Although he was aware of the others speaking, it felt like he was watching them from the opposite side of a murky wall. Emotions rolled through him, quickly and nauseatingly. _I knew it. I shouldn’t have let Lance go by himself. We should have never come to this planet._

As quick as flipping a switch, his fear vanished.

 _“Dammit!”_ Keith shouted, and slammed his fist into one of the consoles behind him. “I knew this plan was a fucking bad idea. We’ve _lost_ Lance!”

The rest of the paladins, including Allura and Coran, stared at him in shock.  Shiro ordered, as passively as he could muster, “Keith, calm down. We’re all upset by this turn of events, but we can’t—”

“I can’t believe you’re acting so casual about this!” Keith was dumbfounded and pissed by their adamant indifference. “Lance is _missing,_ he could be _dead_ —”

“We have to trust him,” interrupted Allura, looking uneasy. “I’m sure he’s fine.”

Fury snarling his lip, he barked, “And what if he’s not?” Needing someone else to abuse, he whirled towards the youngest paladin. “Pidge, you said the tracking device couldn’t be destroyed!”

She spluttered. “What? I _never_ said that! I just said it was more difficult to break! Nothing is ever _completely_ indestructible, so don’t—!”

“Alright, that’s _enough!”_ Shiro bellowed. He stood between them, and glared at everyone harshly. “There’s no point in shouting each other. It’s nobody’s fault that this happened.”  

Keith made a loud noise of frustration. Instead of dignifying him with a response, he spun and marched towards the exit.

“Where are you going?” Coran demanded.

“To find my boyfriend!” Keith shouted, before the doors closed behind him.

 

Unfortunately, Shiro caught up to him before he could reach the motorcycle bay. “Keith,” he warned, striding to match his pace, “if you do this, it’ll blow our cover. Khrelal will know we’re here.”

Keith glared at him, resolutely snapping his helmet into place. He had decked himself out in full paladin armour, and was storming his way towards the hangars. “You can’t fucking stop me.”

Shiro effortlessly matched his pace. “Come back to the bridge. We’re in the middle of coming up with a plan to find Lance. We’re _not_ abandoning him, do you understand?”

Keith stopped walking, and snapped, “By the time it takes you to finish up your plan, Lance could be halfway across the universe. We don’t have _time_ for planning _._ I have to go, _now.”_

“Do you even know where to start looking? Or will you simply go around stabbing things until you get stabbed yourself?” Shiro frowned disapprovingly. “You’re acting hasty and impulsive, and you’re helping Lance _none_. I know you’re worried—and you have a right to be—but that’s not an excuse to make stupid mistakes that’ll get you captured. You won’t be helping Lance by alerting Khrelal of our presence.”

Keith’s eyebrows furrowed angrily. Shiro looked far from agitated, but still extremely serious.

Keith hated it, but Shiro was right. “Dammit!” he cried, and—for the second time—slammed his fist into the wall behind him. Then he whirled, and stabbed a finger into Shiro’s chest. “Fine, I’ll go back to the fucking bridge. But we better find Lance _soon,_ Shiro, or I will march into that town and murder _everyone_ until I find him.”

Shiro nodded, although he clearly didn’t agree. Together, they returned the way they came.

 

Dully, Khrelal admired the device he had stolen from his prisoner. It was small, unimpressive, and now uterlly worthless.

“Pity we couldn’t have used it to lure the others here,” he mused, but unregretful. His forces weren’t strong enough to take on four-fifths Voltron, and he knew it. If he were to leave the tracking device intact, the paladins would attack him with all the firepower they possessed.

Better to remain satisfied with little than get cocky and lose it all. Emperor Zarkon would be incredibly displeased if Khrelal failed to produce _any_ paladin.

The alien eyed the tracking device, and allowed himself a small smile. Then, he flicked it onto a pile of other assorted junk, which was destined for disposal shortly.

 

Shiro asked grimly, “What was Lance doing before the signal cut out?”

“Uh… it looked like he was moving really fast? Maybe he was in a car or something. Then he stopped for around a minute, and then the transmission went dead.”

“Show me where this was,” ordered Keith.

Hunk sighed, for perhaps the millionth time, but did so. The area was a little ways out of the city, about five kilometers into the farmlands.

“We know Lance was brought to this location,” he said, “but I checked our maps, and there are only a few homes in this area. No shops, no large buildings—it’s just an ordinary neighbourhood.” He ran a hand over his face. “Unfortunately, this planet doesn’t have any satellites.”

Pidge, on Hunk’s other side, piped, “If it did, I could hack them and get footage of the event. Plus, we could double-check the legitimacy of that neighbourhood. Maybe there _is_ something here, and our maps are inaccurate.” She shifted, peering at the screen. “However, my guess is that this place has no significance. Khrelal, or whatever, simply happened to find the tracking device here, ran it over with his car, and kept going.”

Shiro, noticing Keith’s deadly expression, quickly amended, “But it doesn’t hurt to check. We must go there immediately.”

 _“Right now?”_ asked Hunk. “But the villagers think we’ve left.”

Coran clapped his hands. “Ooh! If you’re in need of new disguises, I have some old traditional Altean clothing stored in a closet somewhere. Would you like me to fetch them?”

“Thanks, but no thanks,” deadpanned Keith. “I think we’ll be fine, as long as we don’t enter the city itself.”

Shiro and Pidge nodded, and Hunk simply shrugged. “In that case,” said Allura, “let me to come as well. The villagers have never seen my face before, so perhaps they will be less suspicious if I am with you.”

“Good idea, princess,” said Shiro. “Guys, we’ll travel using our motorcycles. Allura, you can take Lance’s.”

If Allura noticed Keith’s murderous glare, she tactfully refrained from commenting on it. “That sounds splendid,” she said.

 

The neighbourhood was true to the map. Just as Hunk said, there were no stores, or large buildings, or even a communal area. In fact, it was more a small collection of shabby houses than anything resembling a neighbourhood.

Allura and the paladins turned the place upside-down, as subtly and non-destructively as possible. They searched alleys, streets, and doorways for any hint of Khrelal’s or Lance’s presence. Shiro wanted to knock on doors and ask questions, but everyone agreed that it would only draw unwanted attention to themselves. Even in the outskirts, the locals seemed to hate them innately. Anywhere they went, the paladins and Allura were watched by _someone_ —a mother peering through the blinds of her kitchen, an old man staring from across the street as he fetched the mail, or a child glancing up from their toy before innocuously returning to their game. Despite this, no one approached them.

“Do you think they know we’re paladins?” Pidge whispered to Shiro worriedly.

He looked grim. “I don’t think so,” he said, but didn’t sound certain. “Either way, they definitely don’t like us. We should get out of here soon.”

They called it a day, and returned to the castle defeated. Their search had revealed nothing.

In the hangars, Keith nearly snapped the key in half while turning his motorcycle off. Without a backwards glance, he shouted at the others angrily, “Great! What a _tremendous_ waste of time.”

Pidge whirled towards him, furious. “Hey man, what’s your problem?!”

Halfway to the hangar exit, he stopped and turned around. “My _problem,_ Pidge, is that I’m worried sick about Lance, but none of you assholes are taking this seriously! Wasting time doing _nothing!_ Hunk, your plan was dumb as shit. I should have never agreed to it!”

His words triggered avalanche of arguing.

“Whoa, man, not cool! Don’t blame Hunk!”

“Hunk didn’t do anything wrong! Stop acting like a fucking jerk!”

“I never blamed anyone! But someone has to say what you so adamantly refuse to—!”

 _“That’s ENOUGH!”_ roared Allura.

Everyone froze. In the deathly silence that followed, the princess marched forward, her hair framing her face like crackling fire. Her eyes were dark and murderous.

Pidge wilted. _“Uh oh,”_ she whispered to Hunk. “Allura’s _pissed.”_

Keith regarded the princess unblinkingly, even as she stopped a mere foot from his face. Neither spoke as they silently regarded each other.

Then, loudly, Allura hissed, “Keith, _this is enough._ Ever since this afternoon you’ve been acting ill-manneredly and like a child, and I’m _sick_ of it. The others may have tolerated it until now, but I am putting an end to this _now._ I know you’re scared for Lance, but that is no reason to treat us like garbage! Stop acting like you’re the only one affected by his loss!”

Keith kept her gaze, albeit blinkingly. Allura narrowed her eyes. “You think you’re the only one who cares for Lance?” she demanded. “Lance is our _family_. We’re _all_ worried sick. But you aren’t letting us mourn, because you’ve been mourning for all of us!

“So consider this a _direct order:_ settle the fuck down. We’re doing all we can to get Lance back, but you need to cooperate with us, and _civilly._ ” Her voice became dangerously low. “Do you understand?”

Keith didn’t move.

Pidge and Hunk bit their nails anxiously. Shiro stood frozen, too scared by Allura to interrupt.

Finally, Keith hissed through his teeth, “Fine. Whatever.”

The princess’s face brightened. But before she could speak, the castle com burst to life with an eruption of static. “Guys, get to the bridge quickly!” Coran’s voice boomed all around the hangar. “You’ll never believe it—Lance’s tracking device has come back to life!”

 

“What the fuck?” Pidge screamed. “What the actual fuck? _What??”_

They were crowded around the bridge’s monitor, staring at red dot symbolizing Lance’s (very live) tracking device. Pidge was behind the controls, double-checking that everything was in working order.

“I don’t know,” Coran was saying. “While you were gone I was working on the broken console—you know the one—and I decided to check up on the tracking device. I didn’t expect to find anything, but to my delightful surprise it was working!”

Keith beamed. “This is good. This is _excellent._ We have a new lead!”

Hunk squinted and leaned closer, as if that’d reveal hidden information. “The problem is that this is nowhere near our earlier neighbourhood. In fact, they’re basically on opposite sides of the city. How did Lance end up there?”

“Maybe Khrelal fixed the device, and is luring us into a trap,” said Allura.

Keith frowned. “But why? Khrelal _supposedly_ thinks Lance is a simple space-merchant….” He inhaled sharply. “Unless….”

There was no need to complete the sentence—everyone knew what he was going to say.

Pidge crossed her arms. “Okay, so Khrelal knows we’re Voltron. That’s kind of bad.”

“Is it actually, though?” asked Hunk. “It means we no longer have to sneak around, trying to stay unnoticed. No more hiding.”

Keith grinned despite himself. He smacked a closed fist into the palm of his other hand. “This is excellent! Now that Khrelal knows who we are, there’s nothing holding us back from fucking him up in person!”

“Since we don’t know for sure, let’s assume the worse and say he knows exactly who we are. Regardless, we mustn’t get ahead of ourselves.” Shiro turned to their resident tech geek. “Pidge, can you find out where this place is?”

“On it.” She quickly opened up the map of the city, and cross-referenced it with the tracking device’s location. “It appears to be… in a junkyard?”

Hunk gasped. “No way.”

Coran frowned. “But why would it be there, of all places?”

Pidge reclined in her chair, tapping her chin pensively. “Somehow… maybe Lance still has the tracking device? And he managed to escape by hiding in a garbage can?”

Hunk nodded in affirmation. “Yep, that’s _definitely_ something Lance would do. No one would look for an escaped prisoner in the trash!”

Allura didn’t seem convinced. “But that doesn’t explain why the signal got jammed for so many hours.”

“Yeah, that’s true.” Pidge had slouched so much that her back was basically on the seat of the chair. “I’ve been upgrading it over the months, so it shouldn’t be possible to block unless you targeted it specifically. When the signal died I was sure the tracking device had been broken, because any other option seems unlikely in comparison.”

Something she said registered with Keith. He perked up. “Wait! Pidge, what did you just say?

“Um, that I was sure the tracking device had been broken?” She shared a confused look with Hunk.

“But that’s not necessarily true, is it? Remember this morning? You told me about the modifications you recently made?!”

“Yeah, I remember. What about them?”

“Don’t you recall? You told me that the device would work underwater, in the atmosphere, whatever. But _not—”_

“Underground!” Pidge finished. She jumped to her feet. “Oh my god, that’s right! How the fuck did I forget?!”

“What’s going on?” asked Shiro. “The tracking device won’t work underground? Keith, are you suggesting that _that’s_ why the signal got jammed?”

“Yeah! It makes sense, for the most part.” He leaped over to the main console beside Pidge, and zoomed out on the map of the city. “Hear me out: this morning, Lance was in the centre of the city, around here.” He stabbed a finger at the screen. “Then, either Khrelal or someone working for him transported him here”—he pointed at the outskirt neighbourhood—“and the signal on Lance’s tracking device went silent. We now have two options: either it was destroyed, _or_ Lance was taken underground. Given that the signal reappeared hours later at this junkyard, it means….”

The rest of the team understood immediately. “Lance _was_ taken underground!” exclaimed Hunk.

Shiro beamed at Keith, obviously proud. “Alright,” he said, “here’s the plan! We need some people to go to the junkyard and find out what the hell’s going on with that tracking device. A second group must return to the neighbourhood and find Khrelal’s syndicate base. If Khrelal knows who Lance actually is—a paladin—then a Galra fleet could be here any second. We must capture him before he can escape!”

“I’ll track down that son of a bitch,” said Pidge. Reminiscent to Keith only a few minutes ago, she smacked her fist into her palm. “I wanna bash that bastard’s face in!”

“That’s the spirit! Pidge, I’ll go with you. Allura, Coran, get the castle ready in case the Galra make a surprise entrance—meanwhile, provide aerial support for anyone who needs it.”

Coran saluted. “You got it, Shiro!”

“I’m going to find Lance,” Keith declared resolutely. “Hunk, you can come with me. This probably won’t take long, so we’ll meet up with you guys afterwards.”

“Don’t forget, though, the junkyard might be a trap,” said Pidge. “Lance could be there, but it’s equally likely that you’ll find an armada of enemies instead. Be careful.”

“I’ll take my lion,” said Keith. “If it looks like a trap, we’ll get out of there as fast as possible.”

He caught Shiro’s eye, who nodded in approval. “Okay, guys,” he said, “sounds like a plan. Suit up!”

 

Khrelal frowned deeply. “This is deeply troubling,” he said.

His messenger nodded vigorously. Their face was tinged a slight red from exertion, likely from running to address him in person. “But there is no doubt! All spies report seeing the paladins at Baztlah. Disguised as they were, no one was fooled. It _has_ to be them!”

Baztlah was the small community outside the city where Khrelal had grown up. His grandfather had built his syndicate headquarters, and had hired locals to live above ground as to remove suspicion from the area. All Baztlah residents were completely loyal to him.

Khrelal clenched his fist. “How is it possible that Voltron discovered our location? _How did they find us?!”_

The messenger startled. “I—I don’t know, sir.”

Khrelal reclined in his chair, a grimace marring his features. Impatient, he tapped a rhythm into the arm of his chair. “Prepare Escape Plan #6-B. Get the lower-ranks to distract the paladins and buy us more time. I don’t care how they do it—they can skewer themselves with swords and block the hallways with their bodies, for all I care.”

The messenger nodded. “Understood, sir.”

Khrelal inhaled deeply. “A Galra fleet is on its way, but it’s scheduled to arrive in several hours. I must contact Zarkon immediately.” He stood, and marched towards the exit.

“…What will you tell him, sir?”

“That Voltron is here!” he cried. “This is an opportunity he won’t want to waste.”

 

“When I see Khrelal,” muttered Pidge, “I’m going to rip his chest open _with my nails_. I’ll squeeze his heart until it stops beating, and then stomp on it.”

She and Shiro were huddled inside the invisible green lion, parked right outside Baztlah. They were running scans on the neighbourhood (like they should’ve done in the first place, Shiro realized), to check if the houses hid something only technology could discover.

“I’ll strangle him with his own intestines,” she continued murderously. “I’ll feed him his own fingers. It’ll be _glorious.”_

This had been going on for the past ten minutes. Dryly, Shiro added, “You forgot the part where you carve his face into a mask and force his dog to wear it.”

Pidge turned slowly. “Khrelal has a _pet dog??”_

“No. It was a joke.”

“Aw, too bad. It was a good idea.”

She was interrupted by a short buzz from the control panel. The scans had finished, and screens popped up revealing all the gathered information.

“Okay, let’s take a look at this,” said Shiro, cracking his knuckles. The two of them scanned through the material, trying to pick out anything of importance.

“It says here that all the houses were built in the same five-month period.” Pidge frowned. “It’s definitely a weird fact, but I don’t think it’s relevant.” She swiped it away.

“Now, look at _this.”_ Shiro pointed at one of the screens. “There’s a huge empty area of earth beneath the houses.”

Pidge expanded the screen so that it’d enlarge. “Keith was right! Secret underground hideout! Can you see this, Coran?”

“Perfectly, my dear,” he replied over the intercom. “There’s no doubt—we’ve found Khrelal’s hiding spot.”

Shiro rubbed his face thoughtfully. “If we want the upper hand, then we need to know the base’s layout. Pidge, do you have any more BLIP pods? We can use them to generate a map.”

“I never leave home without ’em.” She stood and kicked open a compartment to their left. Inside was a whole arsenal of gadgets and gizmos, most of which Shiro had never seen before. She rifled through the drawer, until she emerged holding two egg-shaped pods. They were rather small, though. “Will these be enough?”

“We must hope so,” said Allura, speaking through the com. “We don’t know how large the base is, and the pods are quite small. I can stretch the capacity of the scans to cover the entire area —so the transmissions _might_ be a little fuzzy, but it’ll work.”

Shiro tapped the screen that revealed the underground area, and rendered it into a 3D model. “There appear to be multiple shafts that exit to the surface. I can take one of them, while Pidge takes another. Allura and Coran, you guys are in charge of protecting our backs. There’ll surely be tons of guards around, so guide us as safely as possible to Khrelal.”

Pidge nodded once. “If this is where he keeps the labour he sells, I’ll also free the prisoners. Either way, we’ll rendezvous as soon as possible.”

“Sounds perfect.”

 

“Ugh, it reeks,” said Hunk, grimacing. “Who knew garbage would smell so much like… garbage?” They were wading between mountains of filth, following the directions of a handheld linked to the tracking device. Flying lights hovered over their heads, illuminating their path in the dark.

“Plus, most of this stuff is, like, super dangerous,” Hunk continued. “In fact, I think we just passed a biotechnical element radiator? Seriously, _what the fuck?_ With an hour and the right tools, I could build a _bomb_ out of that.”

That—admittedly—sounded pretty cool, but Keith had other things on his mind. “We’re almost there,” he said, and scanned the area with his eyes. Although they were getting closer and closer to their target, he couldn’t see Lance anywhere.

Hunk cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, “LANCE! It’s us, Keith and Hunk! If you can hear me, caw twice!”

There was no response. “Damn. Maybe he’s unconscious?”

“Or maybe he’s not here at all.” Keith cursed under his breath.

Hunk grabbed the handheld from him, and inspected the screen. “Do you want to keep looking for the tracking device? Maybe we’ll find out why it’s here at all.”

“In all this junk? Searching would take us forever.” Keith shook his head. “If we’re lucky, Lance just took off. He might be back on his way to the castle right now.”

Hunk’s eyes widened. “And if we’re unlucky…?”

Keith rubbed both his eyes with the heel of his hand. “Khrelal still has him. Ugh, I don’t wanna think about it. Let’s just hurry up and get back to the others.”

Suddenly, with an eruption of noise, nine white cars roared into existence outside the junkyard. Dozens of hostile aliens poured out.

Keith and Hunk stopped dead in their tracks. _“Shit!”_ hissed Keith. “It’s Khrelal! But why weren’t they around when we first got here? How did they find us?”

Hunk retrieved his bayard, holding it defensively. “Well, we _did_ park a huge, red lion right outside. We’re basically begging to be noticed!”

 _“Dammit.”_ Keith motioned to Hunk, and they crouch down behind a pile of junk. Hunk waved at the floating lights, and they dropped to the ground like stones. Keith counted to fifteen, and then peered around the corner.

There were roughly fifty— _fifty!—_ enemies, all holding an assortment of nasty, beat-up-looking blasters and guns. They seemed unprepared, fanning the area inexpertly, but they carried their weapons like they’d used them a thousand times before.

“There’s too many,” whispered Keith. “We can’t fight them.”

“We could separate them,” proposed Hunk. “With one of us as a distraction, the other could make a break for Red.”

“That’d be suicide. One of us taking on fifty guys?” He furrowed his eyebrows. “There has to be a better way. We could… try to sneak past them? They’re probably guarding the lion, but we can take out a handful of guards easily— _as long as_ we’re undetected. Right?”

“Oh, jeez.” Hunk wrung his hands. “Okay, this is bad. I’m gonna tell Shiro what’s going on. He _has_ to know.”

“Hurry.”

As Hunk spoke quietly into his com, Keith tracked the enemies’ movements. They were walking in groups of two, warily searching for something among the heaps of junk.

He furrowed his eyebrows in thought. If they hadn’t been waiting for Keith and Hunk when they arrived, then surely this wasn’t a trap—rather, they had just been followed. Hopefully that meant these guys thought they were looking for only one paladin. That gave them an advantage.

Hunk tapped Keith on the shoulder. “Okay, I told Shiro. Allura and Coran aren’t available for an extraction, so we’re on our own.”

“…You think we could _both_ make a break for it?” Keith wondered aloud.

Hunk gauged the distance between them and Red, and fiercely shook his head. “No way. The lion’s, like, a solid three hundred yards away. Even in the dark, we’ll be seen and shot before we get halfway. We have to— _shit!”_

A pair of aliens was approaching. Silently, Keith pointed at a pile of junk over Hunk’s shoulder. They rose to their feet quietly, and sprinted for cover.

The aliens passed by their previous hiding place, only to find it empty. Hunk exhaled in relief. 

Keith gritted his teeth. “That was too close.”

“Uh, Keith!?” Hunk pointed behind him, at the guards they had just evaded. They had heard them, and were walking towards their new hiding spot warily, holding up their weapons. Keith and Hunk hadn’t been seen yet, but if they stayed still for another five seconds, they would be.

Keith’s eyes widened. _GO,_ he mouthed. They started moving, only to find a different team standing in the opposite direction, completely shutting off their escape route.

There was no time to plan, or tell Hunk what he was about to do. Keith leapt away from the junk pile and shouted, “DON’T SHOOT, I’M SURRENDERING.”

Four pairs of eyes and flashlights whirled on him. “Put your hands behind your head!” one of the thugs ordered, training the barrel of her weapon at his chest. “Get on your knees, _now!_ Put down the bayard!”

Slowly, Keith did as commanded. From his position he could see Hunk staring at him with a shocked expression, his eyes pained and confused.

 _Get out of sight,_ Keith wanted to scream. Fortunately, Hunk wasn’t slow on the uptake. With a regretful backwards glance, he sprinted for a new cover.

Keith’s bayard was kicked out of reach, and his arms were wrested into handcuffs. Something bulky hit him in the back, and he heavily fell to the ground. “We got him!” hollered the guard victoriously.

 

Shiro frowned. “I just got awful news.”

He and Pidge were hiding in one of Baztlah’s many alleyways, waiting for clear signal from Allura and Coran. She turned, fearing the worse.

“What’s wrong?”

“Lance wasn’t at the junkyard. Most likely, he’s still a prisoner.”

“Damn. When we get inside, I’ll focus on finding him. What are Hunk and Keith going to do?”

“Khrelal has them surrounded. They haven’t been spotted yet, but they’ve been separated from the red lion.” Shiro exhaled heavily. “Likely, they won’t be able to come until much later.”

“Coran and I should go there,” Allura said immediately. “We can help detain their enemies, and afterwards continue the mission as planned.”

Shiro and Pidge shared uneasy glances. “But we need you to lead us through Khrelal’s base,” she said. “If you don’t, then there’s no point deploying the BLIP pods at all. Plus, we don’t know how much time we have until the Galra arrive.”

“Don’t worry, princess,” consoled Coran. “This is Hunk and Keith we’re talking about. I’m sure they’ll be fine.”

 

“Everything is not fine!” Hunk shrieked into his helmet. “Everything has gone to _shit!_ Keith just sacrificed himself like a giant idiot, and now they’re dragging him away! They’re leaving with him!”

Hunk watched from behind a pile of junk as Khrelal’s henchmen dumped Keith into one of their white cars, after having drugged and handcuffed him. They had stolen his bayard too, and were in the process of arguing who got to keep it.

“I don’t care how many goons there are,” he said. “I’m gonna shoot these bitches until they give Keith back!”

“Hunk, _be careful,”_ pleaded Allura. “If there are more enemies than you can handle, do _not_ engage. Understood?”

Instead of dignifying her with a response, Hunk shut the com off. He studied the scene before him, taking in every detail.

Two of the nine white cars had loaded with passengers and taken off five minutes ago. Where they went, Hunk could only guess. Thanks to that, there were only forty guys left—but that was still not an easy number to fight. Some were trying to figure out how to get inside the red lion (an effort that Hunk knew was futile), while others stood perimeter watch. A final group was arguing over Keith’s bayard and what to do with it. The girl who had handcuffed Keith was holding it possessively, claiming it was rightfully hers.

Hunk narrowed his eyes. If he could take out the watch-guards without the others noticing, then he’d deplete most of their arsenal. But what was the best way to do that? The only things he had at his disposal were his bayard and the mountains of junk behind him. If only he had a bomb….

Hunk gasped. He whirled around, and faced all the materials shining in front of him.

“Not a bomb…” he whispered to himself, grinning. “But what about something that _looks_ like a bomb?”

 

Keith was beginning to regret his uncharacteristic selflessness. He’d been drugged with something that made his movements sluggish, and was dropped into the cargo bay of one of their white vehicles. He’d been there for at least twenty minutes, but the car hadn’t started moving yet.

 _Was Hunk distracting them somehow?_ Keith really hoped not. Hunk had to leave and help the others find Lance, even if that meant leaving Keith behind.

 _I’m going to Khrelal’s prison,_ he thought, revolted at the idea. _But at least I might see Lance._

It was a very small comfort, considering that they’d most likely both be sold to Zarkon, who would treat them even worse. But at least in the hands of Galra, Voltron would have an easier time finding them.

Suddenly, someone shouted, “WATCH OUT!”

Keith jolted, and wondered what was going on outside. It sounded like a lot of scrabbling was occurring. Had something bad happened? Had a fight broken out amongst the thugs?

Then, a voice bellowed, “DON’T SHOOT! What I have just thrown in front of you is a live, in _credibly_ powerful bomb, which I will detonate it if you don’t give Keith back!”

Realization struck. Keith groaned, and hit his head against the metallic floor. _Hunk, noooooooo—_

He could imagine the scene outside—forty armed thugs training their guns at Hunk, who stood before them proudly and serenely. Had he actually created a bomb in less than half an hour? He remembered Hunk mentioning something about it earlier, but Keith hadn’t been paying attention. Damn!

He had to do something. Keith squirmed into a kneeling position, despite the weariness in his muscles. The car looked an awful lot like the alien version of a van, with one wall sectioning off the driving console, parallel to a set of doors.

Keith threw his weight against the exit, but the doors hardly quavered. He tried again and again, but his efforts were fruitless.

He heard someone outside demand, “Who the hell are you?”

“My name is Hunk, and I’m a paladin of Voltron!” he announced mightily. Keith could have sobbed.

“Grab the bomb! Get rid of it!”

“I wouldn’t try that. If anyone moves, I’ll blow this place sky-high!”

Keith stopped struggling a moment, and focused on hearing what happened next. What were Khrelal’s thugs doing? Had Hunk convinced them?

Finally, someone cried, “If that bomb is as powerful as you say, you’d be caught in the explosion as well. I don’t buy it!”

Keith imagined Hunk shrugging nonchalantly. “Sure, I’ll be caught in the explosion. But I have my paladin armour, and so does Keith. We’ll be completely safe!”

 _That_ was outrageous bullshit. In the face of a large explosion, their armour could only protect them from minor flying debris—it wouldn’t save them from flames, smoke, or any major impact—but the others didn’t know that.

“…Damn! But, Khrelal will _kill us_ if we let such a huge bounty go.”

“Shoot him!”

After that, there was an eruption of noise. It sounded like numerous people had fired their weapons, but from the volley of curses that followed, they hadn’t been successful. Keith shoved his weight against the door again, and it rattled and shook but wouldn’t give in. “Dammit, Hunk! What are you _thinking?”_

Suddenly the door opened, and Keith nearly tumbled to the ground. “I was _thinking,”_ Hunk replied, beaming victoriously, “that I was going to save you.”

Someone yelled, “There he is! He’s stealing the paladin!”

Hunk grabbed Keith by the waist and effortlessly slung him over his shoulder. Keith shrieked, _“Hunk, what the fuck are you doing?!”_

Without enormous difficulty, Hunk started to run. “I told you, man! I’m saving you from eternal imprisonment!”

Keith gaped. “You sound like you’re having too much fun!”

“Dude, I know! Sorry!”

Hunk fished into his pocket and pulled out an ominous remote control. He pressed the red button in the centre, and tossed it behind him.

A loud siren began to wail. “It’s the bomb!” someone shrieked. “Take cover!”

From his position on Hunk’s shoulder, Keith could see what was happening behind them. A large, strange-looking contraption in the middle of the parked cars had lit up, and was counting down from ten. Everyone forgot about Hunk and Keith, and focused on scrambling out of harm’s way.

 _“WHOA_ —that’s an _actual bomb!?”_

He didn’t hear Hunk’s reply, because at that moment the red lion came to life. Thugs at the base of her feet screamed and scrambled, causing a larger panic.

Hunk jumped into the lion’s mouth, and practically tossed Keith into the cockpit chair. “Go, go, go—get us out of here!”

Keith couldn’t do anything with his hands handcuffed behind him, but Red understood the message loud and clear. With a powerful bound, they leapt into the sky.

Once they were steadily breezing through the air, danger behind them, Keith released a horrible tension in his lungs. “Holy shit,” he gasped. “Hunk, holy shit. That was crazy!”

“I know!”

“How did you do that?”

“I don’t know! I just did it!”

“Was that an actual _bomb?”_

“Dude, no way!” Hunk collapsed to the ground, exhausted, but beaming widely. “No one can build a bomb in twenty minutes without proper tools! I just grabbed the biotechnical element radiator and made a ton of alterations! It took me longer to program the countdown numbers than to build the ‘bomb’ itself!”

“You’re a genius, man!” Keith laughed breathlessly. “And—hey, did you notice? Your acting skills were top-notch!”

Hunk gasped. He jumped to his feet, holding his head in excitement. “Oh my gosh, you’re right! I didn’t even think of it—I just did it! My terrible acting disease is cured! Keith, this is an amazing day!”

At that moment, Allura’s face lit up on a screen in front of them. She noticed them, and her panicked expression broke into a relieved smile. “Oh, paladins!” she cried. “Thank goodness. Are you alright?”

“For the most part,” Keith replied, shifting his arms uncomfortably. “We escaped from Khrelal’s thugs, all thanks to Hunk.”

Hunk smiled. “Oh, don’t say that. I was only able to do it because you surrendered yourself.”

“I guess.” Keith squirmed in his seat. “Hey, can you cut these handcuffs off? I need them to control the lion.”

“Oh, sure. No problem. Do you have any bolt cutters lying around, or something?”

“No, I left those at home, unfortunately. Just use my bayard.”

At the same instant, they both realized the same thing.

“They still have my bayard!” Keith shouted.

“Oh no, oh shit!” Hunk made motions as if in physical pain. “I forgot about it! I was too focused on the bomb, and grabbing you, and making it to the lion that I completely forgot your bayard!”

Allura’s expression immediately plummeted to something between a grimace and a worried scowl. “Oh dear, this is not good….”

“We have to go back for it,” said Keith determinedly. “We don’t have another choice.”

“No! That’s complete suicide!” claimed Hunk. “We left those guys simmering in a rage and panic. If we go back they’ll shoot us dead—no questions asked!”

“But I _need_ my bayard,” argued Keith angrily. “How else am I supposed to fight!?”

“Paladins, _please,”_ Allura mediated. “Return to the castle; Keith, you can take a sword from one of the robot Gladiators. It is important to retrieve your bayard, but our biggest priority right now is finding Lance and taking down Khrelal.”

He inhaled deeply, reluctant, but knew she was right. “Fine. For Lance’s sake, I’ll leave it behind.”

None of them were happy with this result, but it was the best of their options. “I hope to see you soon, paladins,” said Allura. “Good luck for now.”

 

“The prison cells appear to be two stories beneath you,” Coran said through the com. “There’s a flight of stairs down the corridor to your right, but three hostiles are loitering by the steps. If you want to pass, you’ll have to take them out.”

“Got it,” replied Pidge, readying her bayard. She had snuck underground via a trapdoor in one of the Baztlah homes, (which had been easier to do than she expected—the owner of the house was a sleazy drunk, and she’d found him passed out in front of a TV). After deploying the BLIP pod, she awaited Coran’s instructions.

Lance hadn’t been at the junkyard, which meant he was still around the base somewhere; Pidge was determined to find him. With visuals on the thugs by the staircase, she rolled her shoulders. “Time to ruin lives.”

 

Lance hardly had time to register what was going on before a sack was thrown over his head, and a pair of hands dragged him into the hallway.

His right leg was too fucked up to walk on, so Lance was basically being half-carried. He would be totally fine with this arrangement, had it not been for his immense amount of pain.

“Hey! Stop it, let go of me! What’s going on?” He thrashed, but disoriented and weak, his resistance was futile. They stopped abruptly.

Beside him, an awful, puke-inducing voice ordered, “Make sure the paladin’s restraints are secure.”

 _Khrelal_. Oh, how Lance would love beating the _shit_ out of him. A second pair of hands tugged his handcuffs, and readjusted the sack over his head.

“What’s going on, Khrelal?” he demanded. “Why did you drag me out of my cell?”

No one paid him any attention. “Someone carry the prisoner, we can’t have him slow us down.”

“Slow us down? _What?_ Hey—stop that! Put me _down!”_

Someone had just picked him up, and threw him over their shoulder as if he weren’t a human being. The bag around his head slipped a little, but a tie around the opening secured it to Lance’s throat. “Hey, hey! Don’t ignore me! Put me down!” He struggled, figuring a well-placed kick to his captor’s face would make him fall, but no matter how hard he squirmed he couldn’t break his captor’s grasp.

“He keeps resisting,” said a nearby voice.

“Knock him out,” replied Khrelal, sounding more far away.

“Hey, no, don’t do that! Very bad idea!” Despite his shouts, something sharp pricked him in the neck, and dizziness overwhelmed him.

“Oh, _fuck,”_ he muttered, before he totally passed out.

 

Pidge released a shriek of frustration. “I can’t find Lance anywhere. I’ve checked all the cells—which, by the way, weren’t many; I think Khrelal is keeping the slaves elsewhere—but anyway! Lance is nowhere! He’s not here!”

“Do you think he could’ve been moved?” asked Hunk. He stood beside Allura and Coran, helping monitor the BLIP tech, Pidge’s and Shiro’s positions. Nearby, Keith sat watching silently.

“I fear he might’ve,” replied Shiro. “I can’t find Khrelal anywhere. Nobody I’ve run into appeared to be of notable rank either. Likely, he and his top cronies fled.”

“With Lance?”

“ _Duh_.”

“How do we find them?”

“Can we do a BLIP scan for the entire planet?” asked Hunk. “Like we did with the Balmera?”

“We never scanned the _entire_ Balmera, just its core,” said Allura. “We’d need many, _many_ more pods to do as you suggest.”

“It’s too dark to search for them by foot, though. How long does a day on this planet last?”

“Um… approximately twenty hours. Daybreak is in five.”

 _“Damn.”_ The group went silent.

“…I know none of us like the idea,” said Hunk, “but what if we let Khrelal claim Lance’s bounty? It’ll mean letting him get away, but at least we know where the Galra _are_. Rescuing Lance might be easier.”

Shiro shook his head. “That’s a huge gamble. Remember when we rescued the princess? We barely made it out alive.”

Keith exhaled heavily. “Well, I’m not waiting around any longer. I—”

A long buzz interrupted him. “What was that?”

“The BLIP system,” explained Coran. “Every fifteen minutes it automatically refreshes itself by rescanning the area. It’ll only take one second—there we go.”

Keith watched, unimpressed. The new map looked completely identical to the previous one.

“As I was saying,” he continued, “sitting here doing nothing won’t find Lance. I’m leaving, and I’m taking Red with me—”

“Wait!” Hunk shrieked. He leaned forward, and elaborately gestured at the new map. “Look! What is _that!?”_

Allura’s eyes widened. “Is it… a tunnel?”

Automatically, Keith was at their side. “Where?!”

Hunk and Allura pointed at it at the same time. It was a long corridor that extended beyond the reaches of the base.

“I can’t believe it,” exclaimed Coran. “It heads right into the city!”

“ _This_ must be how Khrelal escaped!” Pidge exclaimed. “But why didn’t the pods notice it before?”

“I told you—because of the pods’ size, I stretched the scans thin.” Allura rubbed her forehead with the heel of her hand. “If it detected a wall more than two meters thick, it would assume there’s nothing behind it and continue on.”

“Which means the escape route was opened only recently!” said Coran.

“Pidge and I will follow the tunnel,” said Shiro. It sounded like he was already running. “Allura and Coran, tell us _exactly_ where to find it. Keith and Hunk, you have to cut them off before they escape. Find out where the tunnel ends, and corner anyone who comes out!”

Hunk nodded determinedly. “Aye, aye, sir! You can count on us!”

At that instant, a second frightening alarm blared. This one was louder and deeper, and echoed throughout the entire castle.

“Uh, that’s not the BLIP tech, is it?” Hunk asked warily.

“No! That’s the warning for Galra!” Allura’s fingers rapidly flew over the controls. Khrelal’s map was replaced by the live image of a Galra battleship approaching the planet Netzal.

“Guys?” asked Pidge. “What’s going on?”

“We’ve got company,” Keith replied, gritting his teeth. “Damn! We knew the Galra were coming, but how did they get here so fast?”

“Khrelal must have contacted Zarkon!” Frantically, Coran typed commands into a keyboard, preparing the castle for combat. “He must have expedited their travels!”

Keith clenched his fists. “We’ve got to stall for time.”

“The castle can fight!” said Allura. “But with Lance missing, we can’t form Voltron.”

“Red can help,” he said. “Together, we’ll distract the ship until Pidge and Shiro capture Khrelal.”

Hunk clapped him on the shoulder. “Keith, don’t be stupid. You don’t have your bayard.”

“So?” he demanded angrily.

“So? You’re at a huge disadvantage!” Hunk said that as if it was something to be proud of. “I’ll go instead.”

Keith sighed heavily. “I appreciate the concern, but I’m _not_ going to do nothing—”

“Stick to the original plan,” Allura suggested. “Go to the end of the tunnel, and cut Khrelal off. Hunk, Coran and I will take care of the Galra.”

Keith fumbled. “But—”

“It’s the only way! You _must.”_

He didn’t like it, but Allura was right (yet again). The argument died on his tongue.

So Keith clapped Hunk on the back, and nodded stoutly. Then, they both ran to their lions’ hangars.

 

“Pidge and I are in the tunnel,” said Shiro. “Coran, when we first entered there was a hovercraft imprint on the ground—we think Khrelal got on a vehicle. Just how long is this tunnel?”

“Um, let me see…” said Coran. “Seven kilometers, give or take. It leads straight into the heart of the city.”

Shiro felt his hope dissolve. “Shit, that’s too far to run.”

Pidge slowed her pace. “What can we do?” she asked, looking worried.

Shiro hesitated. He had an idea, but if it failed their deaths were on his hands.

He said, “If the tunnel’s wide enough for a car… I wonder if it’ll fit two jetpacks?”

 

Keith took a motorcycle.

He zoomed down the roads at high speeds, leaving pedestrians to stare and cough on dust. It was still night-time, but the city was active with noise and work. If he wasn’t careful, he would run somebody over.

Keith clenched the bike’s handlebars determinedly. He’d left his lion in the outskirts—which was foolish considering he’d lost his bayard the last time he left Red unattended, but he only realized this in retrospect.

“I’m programming the tunnel’s coordinates into your bike,” Coran informed via his helmet. “It should take you wherever you need to go.”

“Thanks, Coran.”

If he looked up, Keith would see a massive Galra ship duelling it out against the castle and a darting yellow streak. Explosions caused the air to tremble, and villagers leaned out their windows to gasp at the spectacle.

He knew that if he paused to think, Keith would feel guilty about leaving Hunk, Coran and Allura to singlehandedly defend against their enemy’s ship (with more surely on the way). But on the other hand, he felt a voice calling his name—drawing him away from the others.

 _The last time we saw each other was this morning,_ he realized. _Why do I feel like we’ve spent an eternity apart?_

 

The GPS appeared as a hologram between the two handlebars. Keith veered sharply to the left, his knee nearly grazing the cracked cement, and ploughed ahead. More and more people were exiting their homes to stare up at the sky. Some looked annoyed at the noise, while others looked thrilled at the excitement. Very few seemed particularly afraid. To them, this was a show of fireworks.

The GPS hologram disappeared. Keith stopped. He was in the centre of town square, with not a single person looking his way.

The tunnel entrance was most likely inside one of the dozen buildings circling the square, so there was no point searching for trapdoors. Instead, Keith scanned the area for suspicious vehicles, (because there was no point having an escape tunnel if there was no way to flee once _out_ of the tunnel).

There—on the corner of the street. An innocuous building, with three white cars parked in front of it. If Keith hadn’t seen those same cars earlier that evening, he would’ve missed them.

He marched forward.

 

A sudden roar reverberated down the tunnel.

“What the hell was that?” roared Khrelal. “Pull up a scan!”

He was handed a palm-sized triangular device, which he placed in front of one eye. After a moment of focusing, he saw what was causing the disturbance.

“Those damn paladins,” he spat, nearly shaking in rage. “They’re after their friend!”

The others on the hovercraft looked worried. “What should we do, sir?”

Khrelal threw the device back at somebody. “If _nobody_ can slow these bastards down, then I have to do it myself. Get the blue paladin to the Galra! If you fail, I will hang you all myself!”

He snatched a hovering lantern and a pair of rocket shoes, which he put on quickly. “Don’t slow down!”

Then, he jumped off the speeding hovercraft and landed in a roll. As the light from the craft faded away, the airborne lantern flickered to life. Khrelal stood in the centre of the tunnel, and pulled out a blaster from its holster.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” someone shouted in alarm. The two rapidly approaching figures flailed, and slowed to a stop.

Forgoing preamble, Khrelal fired his blaster three times. He missed once—the other two shots hit shields.

“It’s him! You fucking _bastard,”_ the smaller of the two snarled, whipping out a radioactive green handheld weapon. “Where’s Lance!?”

Khrelal smiled. “Your friend is on his way to Hell.”

“Pidge!” The taller one lunged at Khrelal, swiping at him with some weapon attached to his arm. The girl released a cry, and jumped forward to help him.

Khrelal evaded the first volley of attacks, using his short height to dodge difficult blows. The girl swung her bayard and it extended into a whip, which he shot out of the air with his blaster. When they tried pausing to recover, he fired at them.

Although they couldn’t hit him, he couldn’t seem to harm them either. They were a powerful team, attacking in unison and covering each other’s backs—it was a pity to fight them in such a miserable arena. Thanks to the tunnel’s narrow width, neither paladin could get behind Khrelal, so they settled with forcing him back step by step. Whenever he got the chance, he’d try shooting them down. But that plan was hardly going well.

Khrelal evaded a strike that nearly caught him on the cheek, and narrowed his eyes. Although the girl fought well, the boy was clearly a more experienced fighter. His attacks were much better organized and powerful, and he was the only one capable of making Khrelal reel. He was also much more concentrated than the girl, who seemed to be fuelled by anger and spite alone.

She was, however, doing an efficient job of distracting him. He’d have to take her out first.

When she attacked next, Khrelal didn’t dodge. The whip snarled onto his blaster, and shattered it into a million electrified bolts. While the explosion held them mesmerized—for simply a second— Khrelal lunged and directed a powerful kick at her kneecaps.

But the armour was more resistant than he expected, and instead of snapping her legs in half, she merely fell careening into the side of the tunnel. The walls were reinforced with Ralgoric saliva (a beast that lived on the planet of Oedvia, whose bodily fluids were stronger than cement), but that had been decades ago. Several rocks cascaded from the ceiling, rustled from their spots.

An idea registered with Khrelal, but before he could put it in action, the other paladin stabbed at him with his weaponized arm.

“It’s no use!” the paladin shouted. “Give up now!”

Khrelal snarled. “I don’t think so!”

A second blaster was holstered to his calf, but Khrelal reached instead for a spherical device hanging from his belt. He threw it towards the girl, who was wincingly gathering herself to her feet.

The male paladin’s eyes widened. “Pidge, _WATCH OUT!”_

The tunnel filled with white light and booming thunder. The air shook, rattling the walls and dislocating many stones. Khrelal turned and activated his rocket shoes, leaving the paladins to fend for themselves.

 

“Pidge? Shit! Are you okay?”

“Argh, I’m fine.” She winced, and pushed herself upright. A smear of blood marred her cheek, but she otherwise seemed unharmed. “Where’s Khrelal?”

“He threw an explosive at us and fled, the _coward_. If we don’t get out of here soon, the tunnel will collapse.”

“Can’t we follow him?” asked Pidge, her eyes wide in alarm.

“We could, but he has a head-start,” said Shiro. “Likely he’ll seal the exit behind him, hoping the tunnel will crush us before we backtrack to Baztlah.”

“ _Son of a bitch.”_ Shiro helped her stand. The explosion had knocked her off her feet, _again_. “I was looking forward to bashing his face in.”

“You’ll get your chance. Now, let’s get the hell out of here.”

 

Keith stormed towards the building, holding a Gladiator’s sword menacingly in one hand. The one or two villagers who noticed Keith scurried away frightfully.

This was it, _he had found Lance._

There were four of Khrelal’s men standing guard by the cars, silently watching the street. If he wanted a way inside, he had to get past them (hopefully without alerting any others inside the building). Keith didn’t like fighting without his bayard, but he didn’t have a choice.

He wasted no preamble. One of the thugs noticed his arrival, but not before a sword pierced his back and went through the front of his shirt. He made a chocked sound—wet and grotesque.

The other three whirled towards him. Keith dodged a punch, and sent one of them reeling with a knee to the throat. With a whirl he slashed at an enemy’s chest, but before he could finish the job, a knife appeared beside his face, grazing his armour.

Keith whipped around. The third enemy stood behind him, wielding a jagged blade. In an instant, Keith knocked the knife from his assailant’s grip, and rendered him unconscious with a forceful blow to the head.

Villagers in the streets slowly noticed the fight, and scrambled back into their homes.

Keith straightened his stance, and faced the remaining two enemies. The first was desperately choking for breath, unable to fight, but the second was glaring at Keith darkly.

Keith raised his sword.

The guard screamed, “SOMEBODY, HELP!”

Uh oh.

Keith lunged, and silenced him. Purple alien blood flecked his armour. He gritted his teeth.

Okay, scratch the old plan. Keith had to leave before more of Khrelal’s men arrived. He didn’t do well with plans—so he followed his instincts.

It would be dangerous to enter the building outright, but fortunately, he wouldn’t have to—there was a window on the third story, provided he could get up there. Keith wasn’t as agile as Pidge, or as strong as Shiro, but enough training regimes had made him capable of scaling a simple building.

Unfortunately, he didn’t have much time. Shouts erupted from inside the building, which meant enemies were going to be pouring onto the streets _fast._

He knocked out the remaining enemy, and hid around the corner of the street. He heard men rushing outside, and screams from the few remaining villagers.

There was nowhere to sheath the Gladiator’s sword, so Keith abandoned it before he climbed. He was thankful for the night-time darkness that hid him shadows, obscuring him from view. The third-story window was protected by a plane of thin glass, a small blessing of fortune. To make matters _better_ , a pile of blankets lay beneath the window on the other side. Unafraid, he kicked the glass until it popped out of its frame, cushioned by the blankets below.

The entire third floor was abandoned, Keith discovered, as he ducked into every room searching for Lance. Voices wafted upstairs, sounding extremely distressed.

 _Has Khrelal_ _escaped the tunnel yet? Have they discovered the sword?_ Too late, Keith realized he should have hid it better. But there was nothing he could do now.

The rooms seemed to be living quarters. They were all very basic, decorated solely with blankets stacked on top of a small mattress. Everything was dusty, as if no one had been there for centuries. Without artificial lights, any windowless room was clothed in darkness.

 _Where is Khrelal?_ Keith wondered. Was he downstairs with the others? With Lance?

Finished searching the top floor, and finding nothing, Keith approached the staircase. Two guards stood watch, so it was impossible to pass undetected. He immediately regretted deserting his weapon.

 _How can I take them down silently?_ If it had been just one guard, Keith could’ve easily smothered him with a blanket from upstairs. But two? The second would call for help in an instant, and Keith would be on his way to the Galra in chains.

…What would Lance do? Lance wasn’t the smartest planner, but he was quick on his feet in battle. He came up with ideas that generally outmatched Keith’s, and possessed a talent for tricking others.

_Tricking others…._

An idea occurred to Keith, but it was not a good one.

Wincing at the terribleness of his plan, Keith stepped back from the staircase. Then, he lightly tapped the floor with his foot.

The guards hadn’t heard—it wasn’t loud enough. Pulling a face, he stomped harder.

Still, only one of them noticed. “Did you hear something?”

“No…? You going crazy?”

“…Nah. Must’ve been nothing.” They went back to standing still.

Keith’s face scrunched up, twisting into a grimace. Hesitancy slowing his movements, he stomped on the ground again, even more loudly.

Both guards looked at each other in unison. One of them gestured the upper floor; a silent question. The other nodded, and, wordlessly, they drew their weapons.

Keith was so surprised he nearly forgot to hide. Just as the henchmen arrived at the hallway, he scrambled behind a closed door.

They split up—always a bad idea. Keith waited until one of them poked their head into the room he was hiding him, and then wrapped one hand around their mouth and nose. He used his other arm to trap the guard’s arms against their chest, limiting their movement. Alarmed, they thrashed.

 _Dammit, fall unconscious already,_ Keith thought. The guard kept throwing him off with the same escape manoeuvre, but Keith was far from an amateur. He resisted the attempts, and waited as the guard’s movements slowly grew more sluggish.

Finally, when they were out cold, Keith dragged their body further into the room. He stole their blaster, and hid them under a mountain of blankets. In clear light it wouldn’t fool anyone, but hopefully the room’s darkness would obscure the awkward lump on the ground.

Keith peered around the corner. The second guard had stopped patrolling the upstairs floor, and was now fearlessly ducking into rooms searching for his partner.

Keith studied his stolen gun. He could subdue them with a blast to the head, but that’d make a ton of noise. Or, he could choose to smother them again, but that would be time-consuming. It takes the average person four minutes to lose consciousness without air, depending on the circumstances. And time was already passing quick. Soon Khrelal’s men would stop looking for him outside the building, and that’s when he’d be fucked.

So he set the blaster on the ground, and crouched into the shadows of a doorway. “Hey, V’bojic!” the guard called. “Where are you, dude? Did you find anything?”

Keith rose to his feet behind the alien, and slammed the back of his gun into their head.

Heavily, they collapsed to the ground. It made some sound, but not enough to warrant suspicion. Keith dragged them into a different room, and closed the door behind him.

With that was taken care of, he descended to the second story.

From a landing, Keith got a clear view of the craziness occurring on the ground floor. There were at least half a dozen thugs—all of different species—running around and performing jobs. They counted weapons, loaded ammunition, stocked supplies, and carried things from one place to another. In the centre of the room there was a hatch leading to a basement, undoubtedly the tunnel’s entrance.

Keith scanned the scene again. Where was Khrelal? Surely, he had to be somewhere in this mess. Maybe he was outside? Maybe he had already left?

 _No,_ he couldn’t think that. Lance was safe, and he was _going_ to find him. With that firm thought in mind, Keith carried on.

There were only two large rooms on the second story—one at both ends of a long hallway—which were firmly locked. Through a keyhole, Keith snatched a glimpse of crates stacked like Jenga within.

He didn’t have time to break in, so Keith could only hope the rooms held nothing of importance and carry on. A little unsettled, he abandoned the area.

He returned to the landing between the second and third floors. Most of the hostiles were still crowded at the door, searching for him on the street. Lance was nowhere to be seen.

A faraway explosion shook a window behind him. The Galra and the castle were still battling it out, more fiercely than ever. _When were the Galra reinforcements due to arrive?_

Keith looked at the hatch door, puzzled and frustrated. On the same note, _where were Pidge and Shiro?_ If he could meet up with them, they could create a plan to find Lance. But on the other hand, maybe it was better if they stayed away. Keith’s only advantage at the moment was his stealth, and he didn’t want it ruined by Pidge and Shiro jumping up from nowhere, shooting at random and screaming bloody murder.

Maybe… _hopefully_ he couldn’t see Lance because of the landing’s limited view. Maybe he was tucked in a corner somewhere, where Keith couldn’t see from his vantage. There was only one way to find out.

He scowled, not liking his options. _But as long as nobody sees me, it’ll be okay._ And if he was caught, then he could improvise. That’s how he had always done things.

With a deep sigh, Keith descended the stairs.

 

“How are you faring, princess?” Shiro asked as he and Pidge ran towards the green lion.

“Not too good!” was Allura’s honest reply, a few seconds too late. “The particle barrier has withstood most of the severe blows, but we haven’t gotten the chance to fire back. Hunk is doing what he can, but it has thus far been an extremely one-sided battle. We _need_ you here!”

“We’re on our way!” responded Pidge. She shut off her link, and then cursed. “Dammit! Keith, you better find Lance!”

 

He descended the stairs silently—none of the workers noticed him, too invested in their work. Outside shouts pierced the air. Now that he was at eye-level with the main floor, the danger felt more real.

There were some barrels of gunpowder for traditional weapons beside the staircase. Quickly, Keith hid behind them, intending to catch his breath before searching for Lance.

He suppressed a shriek. Of all the things to run into accidentally….

 

Coran paused for a moment, and studied the monitor showing live footage of the Galra ship. A smaller vessel had just departed from the larger one, and was headed towards the planet. He stared at its movements, indecisive.

Hunk, having noticed as well, asked through the intercom, “Should I do something about it?”

Coran shook his head. “No, leave it be. Until Pidge and Shiro arrive, we must focus on defending the castle.” He was a little worried about it, but not too much. What damage could that smaller ship inflict anyway?

 

When Lance woke up, Keith was hovering above him.

“Uh… huh?” He blinked drowsily, wondering if this was a drug-induced hallucination. “…Keith?”

If possible, Keith’s smile grew larger. “Fucking _finally.”_

Lance looked around. Keith was wearing his paladin armour, which was flaked in questionable alien blood. Both of them were surrounded by barrels of gunpowder, though he heard voices and noises out of sight. Keith was knelt beside Lance—who was propped up against the wall—crouching so that he wouldn’t be seen from behind the gunpowder.

Despite his pain, Lance returned the smile. “Where are we?” he asked. His voice sounded hoarse and broken, and Keith’s smile immediately collapsed. “The castle—?”

“No, still on Netzal.” He leaned forward. “Lance, how badly did they hurt you?”

He didn’t want him to worry, but didn’t see any reason to lie either. “Heh, about that… I don’t think I can walk.”

Keith’s features contorted into an outraged snarl. “Those _bastards._ I’m going to _murder them.”_

At those words, an unexplainable burst of laughter escaped Lance’s lips. He poked a finger at Keith’s breastplate, smudging one of the drops of blood. “Babe, I’m pretty sure you already have.”

Keith cast him a worried look. “Keep your voice down. They don’t know I’m here.”

He sighed. “I love you. I love you so much, that sometimes it feels like I’m going to die.”

“Lance? Don’t say that—”

“Baby, I just wanted you to know—”

“We’re _not_ going to die,” Keith vowed. “So don’t say stupid crap like that! I’m gonna get us out of here.”

“How? How will you do that?”

“…I’m working on it.” Keith fell back, defeated. “Pidge and Shiro were supposed to be coming here to help, but I just got a message from Allura saying that they’re busy fighting the Galra battleship.”

“The Galra? They’re _here?”_

“Keep your voice down!” Keith risked a look over the barrels. “Yeah, they’re here…. So, we’re on our own. I was thinking of sneaking us up the stairs and escaping from a third story window, but it’ll be difficult if you can’t use your leg.”

Hearing all these rational plans, Lance suddenly felt sobered. It was not a pleasant sensation. “Where’s Khrelal?”

“I don’t _know_. I haven’t seen him.”

“Then he could be anywhere.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“We’re in so much trouble.”

“Yeah, we are, but we are _going_ to make it out of here. I promise.”

A door slammed open—a group of six thugs entered the building. Without hesitation, Keith flattened himself against the ground. Lance pretended to be unconscious again. Although his hands had been unrestrained, he didn’t know who had freed them—Keith or Khrelal? To be safe, he kept them limp and out of sight.

“We lost the kid,” one of them announced. “But his motorcycle is still in town square. Search for him! He can’t have gone far.”

“Is this even necessary?” someone behind him asked. “We don’t _have_ to look for him. Khrelal will be here any minute! Once he returns, we’re leaving this place.”

The group grumbled between themselves.

“We’re only stuck here for a few more minutes. Let the kid go.”

“…Fine,” was the reply. “But if he reappears to screw with our shit, I’m taking it out on _you.”_

“Whatever.”

Keith nudged Lance, and sent him a look. He didn’t say anything, but the message was evident: _This is good AND bad news!_

Good news, because it meant they were no longer looking for Keith; bad news, because the total number of enemies in the room had doubled.

 _We have to fight,_ he realized. But with Lance out of commission, it would be impossible. There were a dozen enemies, and despite being proficient enough with guns for Shiro to approve, Keith was inexperienced with them. Plus, he’d have to focus on defending Lance too. An outright battle was suicide.

 _Think!_ There had to be something else they could do. What could they use? What was available to them?

Lance was injured—could Keith use that? Maybe? He also had a weapon, which was definitely worth something. _What else?_

Keith’s gaze drifted to the ceiling, and then back to the barrels that surrounded him. No brilliant ideas were occurring to him.

Sacrificing himself was out of the question—it wouldn’t achieve anything, and there was nobody around to save him. _Plus,_ he realized, _if they_ _realize I’m here, they might not take me alive._ _They only need one paladin._

And that’s when it hit him.

_They only need one paladin._

_They NEED one paladin._

Keith shuffled until he was semi-facing Lance. “I have an idea,” he said, “but if it doesn’t work, we’ll both be captured. Also, it’ll undoubtedly be painful.”

“Sounds risky.” Lance grinned involuntarily. “Let’s do it.”

 

Keith roughly hooked an arm around Lance’s throat, and hauled him upright. With his free hand, he shoved his gun against the side of Lance’s head.

“NOBODY MOVE!”

Everyone instantly whirled towards them. Weapons were drawn, but no shots were fired.

Keith warned, “If anyone tries _anything_ I’ll shoot him dead.”

The thug that had spoken earlier stepped forward menacingly. “Release the paladin, _now.”_

Keith shoved the barrel brusquely against Lance’s temple, who winced. “I don’t think so,” he growled. “I’ll say this once more—stay away, or your bounty will be worthless.”

“Don’t believe him!” a thug to their left roared. “The two of them are allies! Shoot the red one!”

Keith dragged Lance closer, using him as a shield. Lance inhaled sharply, and Keith felt something inside his chest wilt. _I’m sorry,_ he repeated in his head pathetically, over and over. _I’m so, so fucking sorry._

Neither side moved. Just as Keith figured, they were stuck in a lose-lose situation. If they let Lance go, then Khrelal would undoubtedly punish them. However, if they moved to stop him and Keith fired, then Lance would die. Either option led to their demise.

“He’s _our_ prisoner, dammit!” one of them bellowed. “We can’t let him get away!”

“You _will,_ unless you want your precious bounty dead,” Keith threatened. “Now, clear a path to the door. I’m leaving, and I’m taking him with me.”

Reluctantly, one or two of them shuffled slightly. The rest of them didn’t move.

Keith squeezed the trigger gently. The side of the blaster glowed, powering up a shot. “Maybe I wasn’t clear enough,” he said. “GET OUT OF THE WAY, NOW!”

A path parted for them immediately. He and Lance slowly stumbled towards the exit, keeping a large distance between them and the thugs. _They won’t shoot if there’s a chance they’ll hit Lance,_ Keith repeated in his mind. _Right?_

His plan succeeded—they’d basically made it to the open door. The day was still dark, and sounds of battle filled the air. If he turned his head, Keith would see his motorcycle.

They won. _They made it out alive._ Now, they just had to get back to the others. Would they be chased? Most likely. But Keith liked his odds. Now he just—

_BLAM!_

Hot and white, a shot pierced him in the shoulder. His eyes widened in shock, and his entire body sagged backwards in pain.

There—having just emerged from the underground hatch—stood Khrelal, pointing a smoking blaster at the paladins.

“My, you are _all_ worthless,” he said to his men. “How were you about to let these two get away? If they had stepped outside that doorway, I would’ve killed you all. You’re lucky I showed up!”

The pain in his arm was incredible. The bullet had only grazed him, but his entire shoulder felt on fire. The gun clattered to the ground, and bounced to Lance’s feet.

Keith was painfully aware of the street behind them. His _motorcycle was behind them,_ but they couldn’t move unless they wanted to get shot.

“Well, at least _something_ good has come out of this,” Khrelal said. “Now we got two paladins, instead of one.”

Keith stepped in front of Lance protectively. “Fuck you,” he spat.

Khrelal walked forward languidly, as if he had all the time in the world. “And your plan was _so_ clever. Using my own men’s fears against them? How cute.” Here he stopped, nose-to-nose with Keith. “We no longer need to take you anywhere. The Galra is sending a representative who will arrive momentarily to collect you. Do you know what that means?”

Neither of them dignified him with an answer. He smiled cruelly.

“It means you’ve run out of time, paladins. You’ve _lost.”_ Then, to his men: “Knock them out.”

Suddenly, Lance asked, “Keith, do you trust me?”

He turned. The blue paladin was staring straight ahead, determination sharpening his features. Lance was leaning heavily on Keith for support, unable to stand on his fucked-up leg alone.

Keith nodded. “Without a doubt.”

In one swift motion, Lance leaned down and picked up the gun. He pointed it at Khrelal, who merely narrowed his eyes.

A dozen weapons cocked. The noise sounded like thousands of rustling pages. _“Put the blaster down, now!”_

Lance inched his aim slightly to the left, which did not pass Keith unremarked. Realization struck him. Without thinking Keith jumped in front of him, and at the last second, as if my instinct, his shield activated to protect them.

Lance fired.

The bullet did not hit Khrelal—rather it flew past him, into the room beyond. The laser struck the gunpowder-filled barrels, and the entire building exploded.

 

Filthy grit coated his tongue and palate. The air smelled like rubbish and smoke, tainted with terrified screams. Slowly, Keith opened his eyes, though they felt pasted together with glue.

He was lying on his back in the middle of the street. A fire raged in front of him, fervently consuming the unfortunate building. Its entire left half had collapsed, spilling concrete and stones like guts onto the street.

Keith took a moment to sit up and catch his breath. _He was alive._ The explosion’s initial impact must have sent him and Lance flying backwards out of harm’s way, saving their lives. _Is Khrelal dead?_ Nobody inside could’ve resisted those flames.

_But where is Lance?_

Lance was sitting a few meters away, looking like he wanted to throw up. Keith scrambled to his side, and placed a supportive hand on his back. “Are you alright?”

Lance took a deep breath, and nodded. “I will be.”

Keith smiled. “You saved our lives.”

He smiled back. “You saved _my_ life.” With effort, he managed to straighten his back. “I’m not wearing any armour. If you hadn’t jumped in front of me, the explosion would’ve killed me too.”

“As if I’d ever let that happen.”

They watched the spectacle in front of them. The flames were terrifying and oddly beautiful, the way death often is.

“We did it,” said Keith.

Lance leaned into him. “So much has happened in one fucking day.”

“It’s only been one day? It feels longer.”

“It’s been a _long_ day.”

“Longest day of my fucking life.”

“…I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

For an eternity, they watched the house burn. Screams and faraway sounds of battle pierced the night, though they felt muffled and insignificant compared to the insistent crackle of fire.

Finally, Keith said, “C’mon, we should get out of here before that Galra representative shows up.”

Lance groaned. “Ugh, don’t remind me. I don’t think I can _walk,_ my body aches too much. I demand that you carry me!”

“If I tried to carry _anything_ right now, I think my entire arm would fall off.”

“You and Shiro could be twins-ies!”

“Not funny.”

 

After they arrived at the castle, Lance’s plan of falling asleep for sixteen hours was thwarted by Coran’s impeccably-timed interception. Taking a break from fighting, the Altean herded Lance and Keith towards the healing pods.

“C’mon, don’t make _me_ go into a healing pod. I can still help fight!” argued Keith.

“No way, my boy!” chirped Coran merrily. _“Both_ of you need to spend a good, long time resting up. Until you’re in tip-top shape, there won’t be action for either of you!”

“But what about the Galra?”

“Oh, we’ve been doing splendidly with Shiro and Pidge’s help. I’m sure the battle will be over in any minute!”

Lance, who Coran was carrying on his back, exhaled exhaustedly.

 

When Lance stepped out of the healing chamber several days later, he was immediately assaulted by his friends’ excited shouts.

First, Hunk squeezed him so tightly he was lifted off the ground. “Dude! You’re okay! You were in there for so long!”

“Lance!” When she saw that Lance had staggered out of the pod, Pidge ran across the room and tackled them. Miraculously, they didn’t topple over. Her arms wrapped around Hunk’s and Lance’s shoulders, and her feet ended up not touching the ground. “You’re okay!”

“Of course I am!” Lance felt a little disoriented, but the pod had done its job—his leg was healed, and so were most of the bruises he received from the gunpowder’s blast. “Hah! Explosions are gonna have to try harder to bring _this_ man down!”

Hunk and Pidge finally released him. The rest of the gang was there, watching the reunion and waiting for their turn.

Lance’s eyes met with Keith’s. Elation rushed through him. “Babe!” he exclaimed. “You’re alright!”

“Thank God,” Keith said, pulling him into an embrace. He buried his face into Lance’s shoulder. “I’m so happy you’re okay.”

“Yeah,” he replied. He felt giddy and sort of breathless. Despite all the people watching, Lance placed his hands on the side of Keith’s face, and kissed him.

After a full three seconds, Pidge made a retching sound. “Eww, gross! Go be gay somewhere else! You’re hogging Lance!”

Lance could feel Keith smile. “That’s not such an awful idea,” he murmured.

Then, Shiro forcibly removed the two of them from each other, much to Lance’s mock dismay. “That’s enough,” he said, though he was smiling. “And that’s because… we have a surprise for you!”

Before he could react, Allura and Coran pulled the strings off some massive party poppers, showering Lance in a cascade of confetti. A banner unravelled from the ceiling to reveal the words _CONGRATS ON DEFEATING ~~GREMLIN SHITLORD~~ KHRELAL, LANCE!!!!!!_

Lance’s eyes widened. “Yo, you guys! This is awesome!” He smiled. “Thank you so much.”

Allura floated forward and hugged him. “We’re so proud of you, Lance! Keith told us what you did.”

“Yeah! You totally curb-stomped that bitch!” said Pidge. “Mission accomplished!”

“And, guess what, I made food to celebrate!” exclaimed Hunk. “Coran and I made it! It’s downstairs, let’s go!”

He and Pidge ran out of the room, while the rest of them followed. As they walked, Lance clung on to Keith, and slowed their pace until the others were out of earshot.

Then, he gave Keith a knowing look. _“You_ were the one who planned all of this, weren’t you.”

He pursed his lips. “It’s a distinct possibility. But I’m not admitting to anything.”

“Aw, baby!” Lance threw an arm around him, and peppered his face with kisses. He finished with a smack on the lips. “You’re the cutest thing ever! I love you.”

Keith smiled, and it was like the warmth of the sun after days underground. “I love you, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Here’s a fun fact: I never learned how to spell Khrelal’s name. Whenever I had to write it down, I just copy-pasted it.


End file.
